6: Tintin and the Orphans
by DisneyPrincess55
Summary: When Tintin breaks his wrist, it's up to Nollie to help three young orphans find their parent's killer. Please read & review, and follow the story to be updated when I post a new chapter!
1. Chapter 1

**Hiiiii guys :) So I know I'd said that the last one was going to be it forever...but then I remembered I'd started this one while working on the last chapter of Bookworm. So someone please help me, I've got an addiction to Tintin and Nollie. (But that's a good thing, right?) ~DisneyPrincess55**

One

Orphaned

Tintin twisted and broke his wrist while carrying boxes into our old-new house the other day, leaving me to carry in the rest, much to his dismay. He wanted me to relax while he brought in box after box of our belongings, but after he fractured his wrist, that desire was out of the picture.

"The doctor wants you to sit and relax," I instructed. "So sit. And relax. Watch _me_ carry in boxes for a change." He was not pleased with this one bit.

For the next few weeks, I was to be his personal assistant. I didn't mind this—catering to my fiancé was not that difficult. Tintin wasn't a needy, demanding person; even if he tried to be.

The difficult part was having to _be_ him.

I was unpacking a box of books in the study upstairs when there was a knock at the door. Tintin was seated at his desk, staring at a book on the table blankly.

"I'll get it," I murmured, standing and hurrying downstairs. When I opened the door, two children were standing on the porch. "Hello," I said cheerfully, "This is Tintin's house."

"We're here for Mister Tintin," one of them, a small boy, announced quietly.

"Whatever for?"

"Our parents were murdered, ma'am," the older child, a girl about ten, answered. It was then that I noticed a baby in her arms. I immediately thought of myself and ushered them inside.

"Please, come sit down. Get out of the cold. Come in, come now," I gestured for the sofa, which was covered in an array of boxes and objects. Tintin was descending the stairs at the same time the children were sitting down, watching the scene unfold in front of him.

"Who's this?" He asked, and I silenced him.

"What are your names, children?" I sat down in a chair adjacent from the sofa where they were huddled.

"I'm Alice," said the girl, "this is Henry, and this is Lilly." She pointed to her little brother and baby sister as she introduced them. She was wearing a dark blue dress with a fold of buttons near the collar, black stockings, well-worn leather shoes, and there was a leather bag slung around her shoulder. She bounced her feet on the floor as she sat there, tucked the baby closer to her chest, held her little brother's hand.

"Tell me everything that happened." I instructed, and Tintin came to sit on the arm of my chair. Alice was about to speak but froze as soon as she saw Tintin. I turned and looked at Tintin before looking back at Alice, smiling. He had red stubble coming in—he'd broken his right wrist and was unable to do anything that required that hand—one of those things was shaving.

"Y-you're Tintin," She said so quietly I almost didn't hear her. Her eyes were wide as she stared at Tintin, completely flabbergasted at his presence.

"Yes I am," he smiled. "Now, Alice, you were telling Nollie everything."

"Right, I was," Alice shifted the baby in her arms, tightened her grip on her brother's hand, and began to talk. "Henry and I came home from the grocery last week to find a bunch of police officers outside of our flat. We…we asked them what was going on, and they asked for our names. I told them that we were Alice and Henry Ashworth, and the officers instructed us that our parents had been murdered. They gave us Lilly, and our neighbor, Mrs. Emberton, took us in for a few days to allow us time to recover and gather some things from the flat." Fat tears began to roll down Henry's little freckled face.

"So what do you want us to do?" I asked.

"We— _I_ think I know who might've done such a thing," she murmured, "But I want Tintin's help."

As I was making dinner that evening, I was setting up a makeshift bed for Henry in my bedroom—Alice had my bed—all the while trying to find an appropriate bed for Lilly in the office. I'd be sleeping in Tintin's room until all of this settled down.

"Do you have any relatives that will be able to take you in?" Tintin asked Alice, balancing Lilly in his good arm delicately, "Anyone at all?"

"No sir," Alice shrugged, "Our grandparents all died when I was little, and all that's left is our uncle Paul, who lives in Boston. He doesn't even know we exist." She was wringing her hands together as she spoke to Tintin, a complete nervous wreck. Tintin was undoubtably someone she fancied.

"Boston, _Massachusetts_? In the United States?" His voice had an edge of excitement to it at this.

"Yes, sir." I finished making Henry's bed and hurried down to the kitchen to finish dinner. Henry was seated amidst the boxes in the parlor, digging through one of them. Tintin followed me into the kitchen, still holding Lilly.

"Nollie, we should adopt them," he said, shifting Lilly in his arm so he was cradling her, "I mean, c'mon, they need a home! It's either us or their uncle in Boston who doesn't even know who they are."

"Or the orphanage," I murmured, stirring the green beans on the stovetop, "Tintin, we can't. We _can't_! We're not even married. And I…I don't know how to take care of a baby! I don't know how to raise a four-year-old, or parent a ten-year-old! Tintin, we can't. It would be unfair to them."

"How would it be unfair to them?"

"We'd be cheating them out of a good life by adopting them. Two unmarried teenagers with no parenting skills, just adopting three kids? They deserve better than that." I was about to walk across the kitchen to reach the sink, but Tintin stopped me and plopped Lilly in my arms.

"Look at her," he said quietly. I gazed down at the chubby, blue-eyed six-month-old who was sucking on her hand. She smiled when she saw us looking at her and cooed. "Look at her, Nollie. Isn't she something?" I handed her back to Tintin and walked over to the sink.

"She deserves a mother and father who will buy her all the dollies she wants. And a pony! Yes. She deserves parents who can buy her a pony, and a puppy, and everything her heart desires."

"She's not going to find that in an orphanage, Noll."

"Well she won't find that here, either!" His expression fell, and I took a deep breath. "Look. I would love to take in these children, believe me. Maybe we _could_ give them a good home—but that wouldn't be until after we were married, and after I've read all the child rearing books in the whole world. And besides, we don't even know them!" Tintin stared down at Lilly again, longingly. "Children are not dogs, Tintin. You can't just keep the ones you find on the street."

 **So that's the first chapter of Tintin and the Orphans! I hope you enjoyed it! Please review! And remember to check out Tintin and Nollie's blog on Tumblr! XO ~DisneyPrincess55**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi guys! Here's chapter two :) I've been switching between working on this and watching season 8 of Grey's Anatomy. I love summer. Enjoy! I'll see you at the bottom :) ~DisneyPrincess55**

Two

Murder

After a chaotic supper which resulted in Tintin and I arguing over what to feed Lilly, Henry throwing a sobbing fit and Alice shrieking at her brother; I carried Lilly upstairs to the office, Alice following me.

"All right, what do you suggest we put your sister in to sleep tonight?"

Alice shrugged. "I dunno. She slept in a bassinet in Mama and Papa's room. It was white, with lace—it was mine and Henry's too." I sighed.

"We don't have a bassinet, Alice, so we need somewhere safe for Lilly to sleep until we can get one."

"Maybe a box?" Alice looked around the room, "You seem to have a lot of them around here."

"Good idea!" I handed Lilly to Alice, grabbed a big box, and began to line it with blankets. "All right, now what?"

"Well, Mama always changed Lilly's nappy and put her in a nightgown, swaddled her up, and put her to sleep."

"Nappy?"

"Yeah."

"We don't have any nappies, Alice," I sighed.

"That's okay! I brought some!" She went across the hall into my room and came back with a leather bag. "I brought a nightgown for me and Lilly, and pajamas for Henry. And nappies, for Lilly."

"But you didn't bring food for Lilly?"

"No. I-I didn't know that I needed to, Miss Nollie. I'm sorry! I didn't think you would let us stay."

"That's all right, Alice. We'll get Lilly some food tomorrow morning. Now, let's change her and put her to bed."

Alice helped me change her nappy and put her in her nightgown. She taught me how to tightly swaddle the baby, all while telling me about herself and her siblings. "Lilly's real name is Lillian, but Mama wanted her to just be called Lilly. She was born in July, right before my birthday and Henry's birthday. We were all born in July…Maybe Mama and Papa planned it that way." When she finished swaddling her, she kissed her sister's forehead and laid her in the big box. "All right, now it's time for you to get ready for bed. Go on," she hurried into my room and shut the door. I rose to my feet, turned off the lamp in the office, and walked towards Tintin's room. I changed into my nightgown and walked back to my room to check on Alice and Henry, who were both already in their beds.

"Are you two going to be all right in here? Is the lamp too bright?" I asked, leaning against the door. Tintin had set up my oil lamp on the nightstand in between the two, as 'a way to scare off the monsters and bad dreams,' he'd whispered to Henry, who stood beside him and watched as he put it up.

"Yes, Miss Nollie. We will be just fine, right, Henry?" Henry nodded and snuggled himself into his bed on the floor beneath his sister.

"If either of you need anything at all, don't be afraid to come get one of us, all right?" Alice nodded and leaned back onto the bed, pulling her quilt up as she lay back.

"All right, Miss Nollie. Goodnight."

"Goodnight," I smiled, closing the door and walking across the hallway to the office, where the flame in the oil lamp was about to flicker out. Lilly was sound asleep in her makeshift bassinet, the light dancing on her tiny, round face. Tintin appeared behind me and wrapped his good arm around my waist.

"These children are fantastic," he breathed in my ear, "Alice is brilliant, and Henry is incredibly mischievous. And Lilly…" He sighed, "She is a beautiful baby."

"Do not grow too attached to them," I whispered, turning to face him, "As I said before, we cannot take them in." I began to walk towards his bedroom at this, climbing into his bed and snuggling up under the covers. He joined me, cuddling up beside me. "How many children do you want?" I murmured, unleashing the question that had been plaguing my thoughts as I stared at Lilly sleeping.

"As many as possible," he mumbled. "And you, sweetheart? How many children do you want?" I didn't reply, instead I thought hard about my answer. One? Two children? When he noticed my silence, he sat up and stared at me. "Nollie?"

"One," I said quickly, "I want one. Or…perhaps two."

Now it was his turn to be silent for a moment. "Really?" He leaned back against his pillow, "Huh. I always presumed you wanted more than one or two."

"Why do you ask?"

"Nollie, we're going to be married in a few months. It's…something that a couple would normally plan together."

" _And_ you love the three children who have taken over our house," I added.

"I wouldn't say _love_. They have been in our home for less than six hours. Love is not an appropriate emotion towards them."

"But you certainly don't hate them."

"Well, do you?"

"Of course not. They are simply three innocent children who need our… _my_ help."

"Perhaps we could keep them…you know, until they are adopted by a willing, proper family."

I shrugged at his proposition. "Perhaps. But for now, let's just help them find their parent's killer." I snuggled further into the bed and closed my eyes. Tintin shut off the lamp and curled up beside me, kissing me softly before falling asleep.

The next morning, Tintin and I walked downstairs to find Alice rummaging through the kitchen, Henry and Lilly on the floor. "Good morning," Tintin smiled, catching Alice's attention. She blushed the moment she saw him and backed away from the cupboard.

"Oh—my apologies. I-I didn't know when you would be getting up, so I presumed I'd need to make Henry breakfast before he got angry and cried…"

"That's all right, Alice," I moved to pick up Lilly from where she lay on the ground, and handing her to Tintin, "How about you and I take care of breakfast while Tintin goes to get some milk and a bottle for Lilly from the grocery?" The night before, I'd simply mashed a cup of cooked green beans and had Alice feed her. She was the one who suggested it, after all, and I had no idea how to feed a six-month-old. As soon as Tintin disappeared, I went to the ice chest and retrieved the egg carton. "Eggs and sausage?" I suggested, and she nodded eagerly.

Tintin returned with the evaporated milk for Lilly right as breakfast was ready. I was feeding Lilly a bottle while the children ate, watching them closely. The dining table was covered in boxes—some open, some spewing tablecloths and cloth napkins, forks and spoons. Whenever we wanted to eat we had to fish our utensils out of the boxes—thus, everyone's plate was a different color, and there were two variations of silverware floating amongst the room. As soon as Alice finished, she looked at me and smiled, tucking a stray piece of her dirty blonde hair behind her ear. "Thank you, Miss Nollie, that was delicious."

"I should be the one thanking you. You helped, after all." I paused before adding, "Yesterday you mentioned you had an idea of who your parent's killer could be. Do you still think it was that person?"

Alice stared at me, cheeks flushing. "Really, I should be discussing this with Mister Tintin…" Tintin, sitting beside me, stopped plowing his fork through his eggs like a child and stared at me, waiting for my response.

"Tintin can't help you, Alice. His wrist is fractured, he's not good for much at the moment." Tintin dropped his fork onto his plate, picked it up, and walked into the kitchen. She smiled uncomfortably as he left, shifting a little in her seat.

"I wanted to discuss this with him."

"I know. But…" I hesitated, looking from her to Henry and back, "I went through the same thing. My parents were murdered when I was twelve, and I went without knowing who did it for the longest time. I was seventeen when we finally figured out who killed them and why. It wasn't pretty. But you have to understand that I know what you're going through, and I can help in ways that my crippled fiancé cannot." A pot was dropped into the sink with a _clang_ and moments later I heard Tintin's footsteps stomping upstairs.

Alice smiled. "You probably shouldn't mention his wrist anymore."

"I like to tease him," I shrugged.

 **I loved how Nollie kept calling Tintin crippled or whatever and making him mad xD He doesn't like remembering that he's got a useless wrist. But seriously, it's so funny. I love these two. Anyway, please read, review & follow this story/me! If you follow the story, you'll be updated when I post a new chapter! Yay! XO ~DisneyPrincess55**


	3. Chapter 3

**HEY HOWDY HEY YOU GUYS! So I finished like two chapters in two days last week and I was checking my** **phone way too often to see if there was an email from FF telling me that I had a new review...well, when it had been a week with no review for chapter two, I decided to go ahead with Chapter Three becaUSE GUYS IT GETS SO GOOD AFTER THIS LIKE OMG I'M SO EXCITED TO KEEP WORKING ON THIS ONE WOW WOW WOW ~DP55**

Three

Key

I wouldn't admit it to Tintin, but Alice was a huge help to me. She obediently helped me in any given task that I needed her for. After breakfast, she could've run off with Henry and Lilly and rummaged through Tintin's vast collection of books that were up in the office, just to try and find their favorite. But instead of doing that, she picked the plates off of the table and washed them. There was no need for me to even ask her to—she just did it. I watched her, flabbergasted, as I dried a plate with a dishtowel I'd dug out of a box in the dining room. "Who do you think did it?" I asked after a long moment of silence.

"Norman Pennington. Papa's best friend."

"Why would he have killed him?" She was quiet for a moment, thinking.

"Maybe they got into a fight?" She looked at me, "Really, I don't know why. But he visited the flat the evening before, with his wife, Betsy. They have a little boy named Charles—everyone just calls him Charlie. He's Henry's age. They're friends. Or… _were_ friends." Alice shrugged, sitting down at the little kitchen table in the corner of the room, also covered in boxes. I followed her lead, sitting across from her.

"You cannot just blame someone for killing your father because they were friends." She made no move to reply. "Alice, when my parents were murdered I suspected everyone. There were people who would walk by my house— _this_ house—every single day. I assumed one of them to be the killer. Perhaps it was my neighbor, or the grocer, or the milkman. My point is, you cannot blame someone for nothing. You may think they did it, but until you have proof, until you have a logical motive for why they did the crime, you have nothing. We need to dig deeper before we make any assumptions." Tintin entered the room, picked up the teakettle and filled it with water.

"Alice, don't you have an uncle in Boston?" He asked, turning on the stove and putting the kettle on.

"Yes, I do. Paul. He doesn't even know we exist…"

"You know, I think that's interesting. Your father didn't send him a birth announcement? If I had a newborn child, I think I would tell my brother in Boston immediately. Well, as soon as possible, I guess."

"Papa never talked much about Uncle Paul," Alice shrugged, "I never knew he existed until last summer. Papa said something about him to Mama, but that was all."

"What was your father telling your mother about Paul?" Tintin was far better at questioning people than I was, that was quite clear.

"I don't know," Alice shrugged. The teakettle whistled and I rose to get it. "Really, Mister Tintin, I don't know."

"I'd like to look into Paul…Perhaps there's something about him in the library. Noll, you and Alice should go down to the library and look more into Paul. See if you can find anything interesting…"

"He lives in Boston," I protested, "How are we to find something about a man who lives in another country?"

"That's true. What about your parent's flat, Alice? Do you think there would be anything there?"

"Maybe."

"Did your father have a study?" I asked, and she nodded.

"A tiny one."

"Perfect!" Tintin jumped up but almost immediately sat back down. "Oh. How about you two go?" He'd remembered his wrist, I realized, catching the sadness in his voice.

"You could come," I suggested with a smile.

"No, that's all right. I'll stay here with Henry and Lilly. You two go along."

Alice lead me to her old flat, four blocks away from Tintin's old flat—which meant it was about a mile from the house. "How could we never have run into your family? Tintin lived here for years…and I lived just down the way from him…I mean, you must've come down our street at some point!"

Alice smiled. "I always knew I lived close to Tintin, but I was never aware of how close he actually was."

"Closer than you think." I watched as Alice opened the door to the apartment building, climbing the stairs and stopping halfway up the second flight. She stooped down and reached into a minuscule hole in the wall, plucking a key from it and standing up straight again. She turned to me, showed off the key, and continued to walk up the stairs. "You hid your spare key?"

"Yeah, Mama did that in case someone left their key in the house or somethin'," she smiled, "Nobody ever knew it was there except for us." Her expression fell. "I guess we gotta give it back to the owner now."

"That's okay. It's just a key, Alice." I started to walk again, but Alice stayed put.

"But it…it reminds me of my Mama," she began to sniffle, and I embraced her. I knew her pain. I knew the pain that Henry and Lilly would never understand. Henry and Lilly would never remember their parents or their flat. I knew everything she was feeling—whether she showed it or not, she was feeling the exact same way I had. The only difference between us was I was older than her.

"I know," I murmured into her hair, "I know it reminds you of your mama. You know what reminds me of my mama?"

She pulled away and looked at me with her teary brown eyes. "What, Miss Nollie?"

"My house," I sat down in the middle of the hallway of the apartment building and she did the same.

"The house you live in? Why? It's such a pretty house…"

"It was my parent's. It…it was the place where they were killed." She stared at me, wide-eyed, and touched my hand with hers.

"How do you live in it?"

I took her hand and squeezed it. "This is the first time you're going into your old house, isn't it? After your parent's…" She nodded slowly, swallowing. I continued: "The first time going in there is incredibly difficult. I have no idea what it will be like in there. They most likely have not had a chance to clean it out, so it could be a disaster. I don't know what it will be like, Alice, but I do know that I will be right here with you and I am positive that everything will be all right. We're going to figure out who did this to your parents, all right?" She smiled.

"All right." I helped her to her feet and we walked down the hall to the flat. She twisted the key in the lock and pushed the door open. She was about to step inside when I stopped her.

"Wait—let me go first." I stepped into the flat a second before her, stopping her in her tracks to give me a chance to look around. The parlor was to the right of the door, and I stepped into it, allowing Alice space to get in. The flat was overall incredibly tiny and crowded with furniture and random things such as baby clothes and children's toys and books. Alice stood in silence when she emerged into the flat, staring around the space.

"It hasn't really changed since I last saw it," she murmured, "I presumed the officers would have made everything look different. But look, see, this is where I put all of Lilly's clothes into my bag…" She pointed at the baby clothes on the sofa, "Here's where they found Papa—" she pointed at the rug between the sofa and the coffee table. The fabric was still stained with blood, though it was clear that someone had put a lot of effort into trying to remove it. Alice sniffled and pointed to the hallway, in between the last two doors. "Mama was right over there, by the bathroom. She'd just given Lilly a bath when the murderer came in, and when she heard the gunshot that killed Papa, she—" Alice hiccuped on a sob, "She hid Lilly in one of the bathroom cupboards and then left the room, so the killer w-wouldn't get the baby." She sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. "'Least, that's what the officers think happened. That's what I-I wanna believe. T-that way I c-can tell Lilly that her Mama died trying to save her." I hugged her, squeezing her a little.

"I think that's exactly what you should tell her," I smiled.

 **I figured Nollie and Alice should bond, 'cause y'know, they're literally dealing with the same stuff. Alice is so cute. All the little Ashworth kids are cute. ANYWAY please review this chapter so I can post chapter four BECAUSE CHAPTER FOUR IS SO INTENSE YOU WILL EXPLODE OKAY. Love you guys! ~DisneyPrincess55**


	4. Chapter 4

**HI GUYS! Welcome to the most intense chapter of your lives. I'll see you at the bottom :) ~DP55**

Four

The Ashworth Flat

Alice gave me a short tour of the flat—it was a two-bedroom, incredibly cramped place that may've fit two people comfortably—but a family of five was clearly out of the question. She showed me her parent's room first—the door scraped against Lilly's bassinet every time it was opened, and there was only a four foot gap in between the bassinet and their bed. The changing table was crammed against the back wall beside the wardrobe. The only window in the room was overlooking the bassinet.

" _Three_ people slept in here?" I gaped, "That's incredible. This room can barely take the bed—"

"Mama and Papa only came in here when they _absolutely_ needed to after Lilly was born. There was more space when there wasn't a bassinet…" Alice pushed past me and into the bathroom: a room so narrow the bathtub looked as though it could split in half and still be too big. The next room was Alice and Henry's room—the two had a bunk bed and were forced to share a armoire. "Henry had to sleep on the bottom, though he really wanted to sleep on top. Mama said it wasn't safe."

At the end of the tour, we ended up in her father's study. She stood in the middle of the room, completely awestruck, like the walls had suddenly become candy. "Papa never let us come in here," she said quietly, "I've never been in here." There was a tall bookshelf to the left of me, crammed full of books.

"Let's start here." Alice grabbed a few books from the middle shelf—I didn't catch the names. The first thing I pulled out was a yellow manila envelope. I pushed the tabs up and opened it, pulling out several newspaper clippings. They were random headlines at first—things about businesses in town, a few about the _Titanic_ disaster, some by Tintin—which caused me to flush with pride—and then, I flipped past one of Tintin's stories and gasped.

WOMAN FOUND DEAD IN PARK STREAM. It was dated March of 1915. _Elizabeth "Lizzie" Hayford, 21, was found dead in the Canterbury Park stream last night. She had suffered a bullet wound to the head and chest, and was found face-down in the water. Her body was found by Samuel Day the following morning. Samuel has not been named a suspect in the case. Any information regarding Ms. Hayford's death is to be reported to the police immediately._

The following clipping wasn't good news, either. MURDER ON BIRCH STREET! This one was dated September of 1916. _Rose Jemmott, 20, was killed last night on Birch Street. All of the witnesses were residents of homes on Birch Street, and those who saw the suspect claim he was adorning a black coat and incredibly dark clothing. Ms. Millie Cunningham of Birch Street claims the man was walking closely with Ms. Jemmott before the pair began to argue. Eventually, the killer pulled out a gun and shot Ms. Jemmott several times before fleeing the scene. Any information regarding Ms. Jemmott's death is to be reported to the police immediately._

"Was your father a fan of murder stories?" I asked Alice.

"Why, no…No, he wasn't. He fancied happy stories, such as Jeeves." _Tintin loves Jeeves_.

"Then why does he have so many news stories about women getting shot?"

"What?" Alice looked over my shoulder, reading the headlines of the two clippings. "Oh, my goodness. I-I don't know why he had those…perhaps he knew the women?" I doubted her assumption. I handed her some of Tintin's stories to keep her busy so I could read the rest of the clippings.

The next headline made my blood run cold: MASS MURDER AT THE THARRINGTON PLACE. Dated January of 1917. _Neighbors were alarmed to hear a multitude of shots from the Tharrington house last night. No one survived the shooting. The casualties: William Tharrington, 47, the patriarch; his wife, Harriet, 45; their five children: William Junior, 25, Edward, 24, Percival, 22, Eleanor, 21, and Ellen, 20. Also deceased: William Junior's wife, Louisa, 22, who was four months pregnant, as well as their son, Thomas, 2. Any information regarding the perpetrator of this dreadful massacre is to be reported to the police immediately._

I flipped in between the three clippings, thinking hard. _Maybe this was just his hobby_ , I pondered, _maybe when he was younger he had a fascination with murder stories_. I mean, the last of the clippings was twelve years old. He had to have been fairly young…

"How old was your papa?" Alice was smiling, sitting on her papa's desk chair, reading one of Tintin's stories. "Alice."

"How old was he? I read somewhere that he was born in 1897," she said, not even looking up from the story. "And Mama was born in 1899."

"What year were they married? Do you know?"

"A year and a half before I was born. So…early 1918."

I flipped forward to the next article—and if the previous clipping had startled me, this one startled me tenfold. I choked on air as I read the headline, almost dropping the clippings all over the floor. ASHWORTH CONFESSES. Dated August of 1919. _Alice had already been born—but if her father murdered all of those people and confessed to it, how had he avoided a life in prison? How had he avoided punishment for his crimes?_ I read the article, completely intrigued: _Alfred Ashworth, 22, reported to police officer Isaiah Browning that his brother, Paul Ashworth, was the perpetrator in twelve previous murders in the past four years. Paul killed Elizabeth "Lizzie" Hayford, Rose Jemmott, and the entire Tharrington family. Alfred Ashworth disclosed his brother's motives in a short letter to the police department, it goes as follows: "Paul killed Lizzie first. Lizzie was his first girlfriend, first love. He was so madly in love with her that when she denied his marriage proposal at the park he killed her. A year later, he was finally ready to love again when he began courting Rose Jemmott. Rose didn't fancy him as much as he did her, and she began courting another man while still courting Paul. When Paul found out about Reginald, Rose's other boyfriend, he accused her of adultery and killed her, as well. Then there was Ellen Tharrington. He was planning on marrying her, and she wanted to marry him. One night, however, they were at a party at her parent's residence. They were talking up in her father's study, and she questioned him about Rose and Lizzie. She accused him of murdering his girlfriends and was about to end her relations with him when he shot and killed her. Knowing that the Tharrington family most likely heard the gunshots, he knew he had to kill them all as well. I apologize for the actions of my brother." It is unclear what Paul's fate with be: there has been word of a correctional prison in Boston, Massachusetts for serial murderers._

"Oh my God," I whispered, reading the article again to ensure that it was real.

"What?" Alice jumped up and tried to read over my shoulder, but I didn't let her.

"N-nothing. We gotta go back to Ti—we gotta go home now. Come on." I took the articles from her, gently slid them back into the envelope, closed it, took Alice's hand and marched her back home. As soon as we walked in the door, I dragged Tintin into his room to show him what I'd discovered.

"Hello to you, too," he shot me a questioning stare as soon as I shut the bedroom door behind me.

"Shut up," I rolled my eyes and opened the envelope, reaching inside to grab the clippings. "Read the headlines only."

" _Oookay_ ," I handed him the articles and waited. I'd know by his expression exactly when he reached the murder stories. His face lit up in a brief smile and I knew what he'd seen. "These are Mister Ashworth's?"

"That they are."

"I see he was a fan," he grinned, flipping past the clipping. His face darkened and he mumbled something I couldn't catch. He flipped past the first murder story and was onto the second one—Rose's. He shook his head and swallowed before turning to the next one. He rubbed his stubble with his good hand as he read. When he was finished, he looked up at me. "So he liked murder stories. So what?"

"No, he didn't. He loved Jeeves, like you. Read the next one." He did as he was told. I watched his reaction—it was so similar to mine I couldn't believe it.

"No—"

"Read the whole article." He mouthed the words as he read, his expression changing from shock to sadness to anger in under a minute.

"He did it, Nollie. It was their uncle. It has to have been their uncle. This is the motive right here."

 **WHAAAAAAAT? That was a crazy chapter, right? I had so much fun writing this one. I whipped it out pretty quick because it was that good that I was like, I need to finish this chapter now. Anyway, please review & follow the story/me & CHECK OUT TINTIN AND NOLLIE'S BLOG! Just google search tintinnollie and it'll be the first link :) It's a fun little tumblr blog. ~DisneyPrincess55**


	5. Chapter 5

**HI GUYS! So here's chapter five. Sorry for the slight delay, but we had to put my fifteen-year-old dog down on the seventh and I've been super busy (watching lots of Grey's Anatomy.) Anyway, my family is leaving for Disneyland/D23 expo in a few hours, and I figured before I leave for several days I should give you guys a new chapter to enjoy! I actually am super proud of this chapter. Anyway, see you at the bottom! ~DP55**

Five

Brother, Friend, Killer

I didn't want Uncle Paul to be the killer. I didn't want the children to grow up knowing that their own kin had killed their parents. "How can you be sure that it was him?" I demanded, "Tintin…" He was leaning against the bedpost, scanning the news clipping, reading it over and over again.

"American prisons are incredibly simple to escape from." I shot him a look, and he shrugged it off. "Well, they often can be. My theory is, Paul escaped late last year and went after Alfred and his wife to seek revenge."

I hugged my arms around my chest when he said revenge. Revenge. It was such an awful word—Paul sought revenge against his own _brother_. His brother. A shiver ran down my spine as I imagined Paul and Alfred as boys: playing together, walking to school together, laughing together, telling each other secrets about the girls they fancied in their classes, playing tricks on each other… "How do we tell the children?"

"I do not think that we should tell them." He was no longer scanning the news clipping, instead he'd folded his arms across his chest and was watching me intently.

"But they want to know who killed their parents…"

"I am aware of that."

"So how do we tell them?" He stared at me, silently, watching my expression, waiting for me to realize what he already knew. Paul looked up to Alfred, Alfred was his hero. And then Paul became a murderer, Alfred confessed to his brother's crimes, Paul was imprisoned and then came back to kill his brother. His friend. Paul killed his friend, his brother, the children's father. We couldn't tell them. It would destroy them to learn that their own uncle had gone on a murderous rampage, killing women and families and finally their parents. We couldn't tell the children without leaving them a life of distrust towards one another. I imagined Alice growing up afraid of Henry—growing up not telling him her secrets, growing up walking on different sides of the sidewalk to school. I couldn't let that happen to them. The children needed each other more than anything now that their parents were gone.

"We cannot," he announced what I had finally concluded a moment later.

"But they— _Alice_ —she wants answers."

"That I am also aware of, sweetheart."

"So what do we do?" My voice was demanding. "I understand that we can't tell them. But we have to come to some conclusion so they don't grow up confused and hurt because we never gave them a clear answer."

"Well, what do you want for us to tell them, then?" He stood up straight and walked toward me, "We cannot tell them that their uncle did it, we have already decided that. So now what? Honestly, Noll, the only other option possible is for us to tell them that we could not come to a conclusion."

"But that's not fair to them!"

"I _know_ that it's not fair!" He threw his good arm into the air for dramatic emphasis, "But telling them that their uncle is the killer is also not fair."

"Should we turn Paul in?"

"Of course." He began to collect the news clippings, which had scattered on the floor after he'd thrown his hands up in the air. He was reaching for the last page when he paused, stood, and turned in my direction. "However, we might want to catch him first," he smiled, "Just to make everything more exciting." He grabbed the last clipping, approached me and kissed me softly before walking out the door.

"So have you found anything yet, Miss Nollie?" Alice asked that evening while helping me set the table for dinner. She was setting out plates, I had silverware. "Anything about my parents?" I sucked in my breath and shook my head.

"No, not anything yet. Hopefully tomorrow we'll find something. Any ideas on where to look?" I waltzed myself back into the kitchen, stirred the bubbling soup on the stove and listened for her reply. When she didn't respond, I called for her. "Alice? I asked if you have any idea of where to look. If you don't, that's all right, but—" She appeared in the doorway leading into the dining room, blue eyes wide, as though she'd just seen a ghost.

"Are you positive you didn't find anything at my flat?" Her voice was an echo.

"P-positive." I was terrified she'd thought of something I'd missed while at the flat—something about her Uncle Paul. I was right.

"I just recalled overhearing Papa talking to Mama about my Uncle Paul last summer." She stared at me, her eyes returning back to normal, "It wasn't a good talk, I knew by their voices. Papa was telling Mama something about what Paul had did when he was younger that made him have to go live in America. Something about…something about his old girlfriends, and a buried gun, and…" My heart stopped.

"What's this about a buried gun?" Tintin entered the kitchen through the parlor doorway, Lilly in his good arm. I smiled a petrified smile at him, hoping he would realize what was happening and figure out what to do.

Alice shrugged. "I dunno, Mister Tintin, I think my Uncle Paul was a detective who wanted to live in America." I began to breathe again; panicked, short breaths which resulted in a questioning look from Alice and a terrified look from Tintin.

In a single moment, Tintin handed Lilly to Alice, shut the stove off, grabbed me and swung me into the parlor and onto the sofa. He knelt in front of me and waited, watching me. By this time, my breathing had returned to normal. "What did she say?"

"I thought—I thought she knew about Paul…" I gasped, "She sounded like she was about to announce he'd done it…"

"However, children often suspect the innocent things, like Paul is just a detective who wished to live in America." He grabbed my hand, rubbing my thumb with his. "It's all right, Nollie. We will not tell them."

"Honestly, at this point, I wish we _could_ tell them he did it."

"It is best this way." With that, he went back into the kitchen, ending the discussion.

During dinner, Tintin was stirring his soup absentmindedly and watching Alice feed Lilly, a tiny flicker of a smile gracing his features. "Alice," he finally called, "You mentioned a buried gun earlier."

Alice furrowed her brow, still holding the bottle to her sister's lips, before nodding. "Oh, yes. The one Papa told Mama about. The gun is buried in the park across from the baker's, underneath a old, big tree. Papa said that Uncle Paul buried it there."

"Why did he—" I began, but Tintin quickly shushed me. Alice looked up, confused. "Nothing, sorry," I said quickly.

"And your uncle buried it there because he's a detective, correct?"

"Yes, because he's a detective and he needed to hide it from the bad guys who really, really wanted it. He buried it and then went to America."

Tintin kicked me underneath the table, and when I glared at him, he was hiding a grin and nodding. _This_ was how we were going to catch Paul.

After Tintin and I had tucked the children into bed at eight that evening, we pulled our coats on and quietly slipped out the door and headed for the park—walking close together, hands intertwined, to keep warm. "What if he's already got the gun, and that's the one he used to kill the Ashworths?" I asked him after we'd gotten to the point where the house wasn't in sight anymore.

"They would have the ability to trace the bullets of the gun back to him. It is an old gun, he used it ten years ago. They would know. He bought a new gun to kill his brother with, Noll. Also, there is not a doubt in my mind that he would be going back for his old gun sooner or later."

And sure enough, as we entered the dimly-lit park and went straight for the oldest tree in the neighborhood, we ran into a very darkly-clad Paul Ashworth.

 **OOH PAUUUUUL! I can't wait to find out what happens, can you? If you want chapter six, REVIEW! ( & follow me & this story.) And check out Tintin and Nollie's tumblr blog by searching tintinnollie on google and clicking on the first link! It's a fun little blog :) Love you all! ~DisneyPrincess55**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey readers! Here's Chapter Six! It's pretty intense, I think. I took extra long to work on it because I wanted it to be perfect & I also got really blocked (don't you just HATE when that happens? Especially when you've got a super good portion of a super intense chapter done!) Anyway, here you go! Enjoy! See you at the bottom! xx, DP55**

Six

Paul

At first, I wasn't even positive it was him, it was so dark and the lamplight above us cast a shadow over his features… until I noticed his eyes. They were the same blue as Alice's—and the shape of his face was nearly the same as Alfred was in the photographs throughout the Ashworth flat. When I at last realized who it was, I elbowed Tintin in the stomach and tipped my head in Paul's direction. He was crossing the duck pond bridge opposite us, staring at us almost suspiciously. It was, after all, nearing nine o'clock, and the park closed at dusk every night. We were walking quickly, glancing at him occasionally as he passed, pondering if he'd figured us out or not. And then he was gone, the black silk night had swallowed him up whole.

So when a voice sounded behind us, I nearly went into cardiac arrest.

"Evening," said the voice. Tintin turned first, followed by me. I stared at Paul Ashworth, stunned, shocked, that he'd approach us. I got a better look at him this way—his thick, dark hair like Henry and Lilly, covered by a black flat cap, he was dressed in dark slacks, a navy sweater and a black overcoat. His breath billowed out into a cloud in front of his nose.

"Good evening to you, sir," Tintin's voice was firm. _How was his voice so firm?_ Paul glanced from me to Tintin and back again, folding his arms across his chest.

"Little late for you two to be out, huh?" His accent was American— _how could it not have been, after being imprisoned there for so long?_

"Uh—no, sir, no. Just uh, taking my girlfriend home. She lives on the other side of the park." He paused, faked a chuckle, "Shortcut."

"I see." Paul stared at Tintin silently for a moment. "Wait a minute—you're that boy reporter, aren't you? What's your name—Tim?"

"Tintin." I heard myself say.

Paul raised his eyebrow, gesturing an arm towards me. "She speaks!" He laughed a deep belly laugh before grabbing the sides of his coat and rocking forward on his feet. "Well, I'll let you two be on your way. Nice meeting you, Mister Tintin. Y'know, my brother was a fan. God rest his soul." My blood turned to ice as he said this, and when Tintin tugged on my coat to move me along, I didn't budge. I had my eyes locked on Paul, and he, uncomfortably, held my gaze. "Hey there, fella, is something wrong with your girl?"

Tintin was standing to the right of me, looking from me to Paul, hands in his pockets. He was thinking about his next move. In a moment, he furrowed his brow and wrapped his left arm around me, squeezing a bit to try to relax my stance.

"You never told us your name." Now it was Tintin's turn to lock eyes with Paul.

He shifted uncomfortably, holding Tintin's gaze. "Name's Ashworth. Paul Ashworth."

"Your brother is Alfred? The one who died a few days prior to this?"

"Yeah. Alfie. God, who knows who did it. I sure hope they catch who got him soon…"

"I cannot imagine what you are going through and I am terribly sorry for your loss," Tintin murmured, nudging me to go, "However, we must be on our way now. My girlfriend must be home by ten. Goodnight, Mister Ashworth."

"Goodnight, Mister Tintin."

We hurried home from the exit at the opposite side of the park that we'd come in from. The day's rain was beginning to turn to ice under our feet from the cold, and hurrying only made slipping near inevitable. As soon as we reached the house, we rushed ourselves inside quietly, slipping out of our freezing cold clothes and into our pajamas in separate rooms before meeting again in Tintin's room and burying ourselves beneath the covers to warm ourselves up. Tintin shut the light out as soon as he got into bed and cuddled up beside me. "Well, we've found him, so that's one adventure down," his breath was warm on my cheek as he wrapped an arm around me, "Now we just gotta catch him."

"What if his motive isn't good enough? What if the police don't believe us?" I murmured, burrowing closer to him like a gopher, "We can't just catch him and turn him in for nothing. And what if the children find out?"

"Darling, he escaped from prison. He needs to be caught anyway, not just for the murder of his brother and sister-in-law." He began to speak again, but I wasn't paying attention—the sound of his voice was beginning to lull me to sleep. It had been a long day, and I was positively exhausted. Within a moment, I was sound asleep.

I woke at seven thirty the next morning to Henry calling me from the doorway. Tintin's arms were wrapped around me still, and I carefully untangled myself from his grasp, trying desperately not to wake him. The air was cold as I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stepped onto the wood floor. "Lilly's awake, Miss Nollie," he announced as I reached him. He was wearing a single sock, his dark hair was tousled, eyes sleepy, and his cheeks were rosy. I lifted him in my arms and snuggled him as I walked down the hallway to the office, where Lilly was wailing in her makeshift cradle. I set Henry down and reached for the baby—she quieted when I cradled her in my arms and cooed.

"Someone's hungry," I smiled, carrying her down to the kitchen, Henry on my heels. I sat him down on one of the kitchen chairs and plopped his sister in his arms so I could prepare her breakfast.

By the time I'd fed the two little ones, it was eight. A sleepy Tintin emerged from upstairs, kissed me on the cheek and trudged over to the cupboard. He retrieved the teakettle and filled it with water. "I think we should take the children to the candy shop this morning," I announced as he set the kettle on the stove. He smiled and nodded, not saying anything. "What? They need to get outside. It's no fun for children in our house."

"True," he grinned.

"Candy shop?" Alice entered the room cheerily. _Someone slept good_ , I thought, remembering that she was the only one of the children not sleeping on a makeshift bed on the floor. "I don't believe I've ever been to one."

"How can that be?"

"Well, Mama and Papa never—" she cut herself off, "I don't think there was enough money to buy candy." She stood there, staring at the floor. When her shoulders began to shake with sobs an instant later, Tintin's expression melted into sadness and he moved to pick her up with his good arm, sitting her on the counter island.

"What did your Papa do for a living?" He asked her, brushing her hair away from her face. A steady flow of tears were making their way down her cheeks, dripping off of her chin and onto her nightgown.

"H-he worked in c-construction. B-building houses." She looked at him, confused. "Why do you ask?"

"You had yet to tell us what he did." Tintin had positioned himself so he was looking her straight in the eye. "What was your Papa like, Alice?"

"W-why?" She wiped her eyes and sniffled.

"When my parents were killed, it helped me to talk about them."

Alice looked concerned. "Your parents died…t-too?" Her gaze shifted from him to me. "L-like Miss Nollie?"

"Yes, like Miss Nollie. I was eight years old, however. She was eleven. I don't remember my parents as vividly as she remembers hers, because I was younger."

"I didn't know your parents died, Mister Tintin. I'm sorry."

Tintin gazed at her softly. "You have nothing to apologize for, Alice. We are all orphans here."

Alice and Henry were awestruck when we entered the candy shop. The four small walls of the shop were stocked high with boxes overflowing with tiny packages of candy—chocolate bars, lollipops, caramels, licorice—every single type of candy. The children's eyes were wide and their mouths gaped at the sight. Tintin told them to pick out any candy they wanted and he promised to purchase it for them. When Henry pointed out several dozen different candies, Tintin was forced to limit them to three bags of candy total. He probably would've bought out the whole store if he had the money to. The store was hopping, and Tintin stuck with Henry and I with Alice and Lilly to avoid losing anyone. Alice chattered away about how beautiful the candy shop was, how she'd never smelled so many wonderful smells in her whole entire life. I followed her around the shop, Lilly on my hip, a wire basket dangling from my other arm to collect Alice's choice candy. I was glad she was happy. The children deserved to be happy.

Two small brown paper bags full of chocolate bars and another filled to the brim with assorted candies and Tintin proceeded to the register at the back of the shop. I stood with him, holding Lilly still, Henry by my side.

It was then that I realized I didn't hear Alice's chattering anymore. She had chosen to continue wandering about while we paid for the candy, talking to some boys wearing burlap-colored flat caps. I slipped away from Tintin's side as he paid for the candy, holding Lilly close to my chest as I walked towards the door.

"Alice?" I called. "Alice, where are you?" The boys in the burlap hats were gone. _Oh my God_. Did Alice run away with those boys? I was circling back through the store to see if I'd missed her when Tintin caught up to me.

"Nollie? What is it?" His voice expressed concern, and I saw him reach for Henry's hand. I didn't want to tell him I'd lost Alice. I didn't want him to know that I'd let her get kidnapped or think that I'd let her run away.

But I had to tell him. I couldn't lie about this or pretend like everything was all right—because it wasn't. We'd just lost Alice. "Alice is gone," I steadied my voice, "I let her talk to some boys while we purchased the candies, and now she's gone."

Tintin stared out the large front window of the shop, brow furrowing. "Nollie," he paused, lowering his voice, "Isn't _that_ Alice?" He pointed straight across the street, where a dirty blonde-haired girl in a navy blue dress was standing with the two flat-capped boys and a tall, darkly-clad man. _Paul_. I didn't think, I darted out of the store, shrieking for Alice, waving my free arm in the air. A car zipped past, stopping me in my tracks, and when it disappeared, Alice, Paul and the boys were gone.

I stood on the sidewalk in shock, the baby still in my arms. She began to cry. " _No_ ," I whispered, searching the sidewalk across the street for Alice. "Alice…" Tintin appeared behind me and I heard his breath in my ear, " _Go_." He took the baby and I was gone, chasing up the street for Paul Ashworth and Alice. He'd taken her, he had to have taken her. It must've been his plan—those boys were part of his plan. My stomach churned at this thought. If I hadn't let her talk to those boys…

 **OH NO. Alice got kidnapped? Well shoot. And Tintin got stuck back with the little kids xD Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please review, follow, favorite... & CHECK OUT TINTIN AND NOLLIE'S BLOG! Google tintinnollie & it'll be the first link :) Love you guys! ~DisneyPrincess55**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hi guys! Here's chapter seven! I hope you enjoy it - I sure enjoyed writing it for you guys! See you at the bottom ~DP55**

Seven

Pawn

I had no idea where Paul had gone with Alice, honestly, but I wasn't about to quit my search. It was one now—Alice had disappeared at eleven. I'd searched the entire street twice, but to absolutely no avail. Paul and Alice were nowhere to be found. I asked any passerby if they'd seen Alice or Paul recently, but that proved to be no use.

And then I ran into Mary Emberton.

She was a woman in her mid-forties, stocky, her salt-and-pepper colored hair twisted into a tight undo. She was holding on to a boy and a girl when I passed her, and the boy pulled on her as she scolded him. "Excuse me," I slowed to speak to her. She stopped, stared at me, waited. "Have you seen a little blonde-haired girl in a blue dress?" I watched her expression closely. "Her name is Alice Ashworth, she's ten, she's about this tall…" I demonstrated her height with my hand.

"Alice?" The woman's gaze turned to concern. "How do you know Alice?"

"I may as well ask you the same, ma'am." I didn't even know Tintin was nearby until he showed up beside me. "However, we do not have time for a discussion. We need to know if you've seen her in the past few minutes."

"Well…not that I recall…"

"What about men. Have you seen any men? The one we're looking for is dressed in very dark clothes," I added, watching her brow furrow, "He may have two boys with him, probably about your son's size, wearing brown flat caps. Have you seen _anything_?"

"I saw them. The man, and the boys. But not Alice." Tintin cursed under his breath.

"Which way were they going?"

Mrs. Emberton's daughter pointed in the way I'd just come from—north. "North!" Tintin shot off in that direction without another word.

"Thank you!" I called to the Embertons, chasing after him. I caught up with him a hundred meters away. "Where are Henry and Lilly?" I panted, and he slowed to a brisk walk.

"We needn't be worrying about Henry and Lilly right now, Nollie."

"Tintin, _where are the children_?"

"They are not in danger like their sister." _Was that supposed to make me feel better?_

"Who has them?" He ignored me, and had a good reason to: one of the boys was standing at the streetcorner, dead ahead. He broke into a run—the boy saw him coming and did the same—but Tintin was much faster than he was, and with a single reach he grasped the boy's sweater and yanked him to a halt.

"Where is Alice?" Tintin was demanding the boy as I approached. His grip on the boy's sweater was so tight it was nearing ripping the orange fabric. The boy stared at him in complete and utter terror, his hazel eyes wide. " _Answer me_!"

"I-I—" the boy stammered and Tintin shook him. "I d-don't know, sir, really!"

"Yes you do," Tintin snarled, "Where is she?" The boy's entire body shook in fear.

"Tintin." I removed his hand from the boy's sweater and instead took the boy's arm in my grasp. "The man who took her—Mister Ashworth—he's her uncle."

"I know that," the boy said quietly, looking from Tintin to me and back again, "He said she ran away from him." He cringed when he finished speaking, as if he was prepared for one of us to smack him. I caressed his cheek, bending down so I was his size.

"She didn't. You don't understand…Mister Ashworth never knew she existed until just recently. He killed her parents last week." The boy's eyes grew wider than before as he realized what he'd done. "Could you please tell us where she is?"

"Yeah," the boy nodded quickly, before continuing, "My name's Eddy. The other boy, he's my brother Johnny." With that, he hurried down the street, beckoning for us to follow him.

"You need to relax," my voice came out harsher than expected, and Tintin shot me a look. "You are causing people quite the scare."

"I love these children, Nollie," he began to follow Eddy, "I cannot bear to let any harm come to them."

I caught up to him, matching his steps with mine, "I love them too."

Eddy led us down the street for two more blocks before we reached a bank—busy with people, coming and going. _This couldn't be where Paul was keeping Alice…_ It wasn't until he brought us to the back of the bank when we realized that there were flats above us. Eddy was silent as he took us upstairs and down a poorly lit hallway, pulling a key from his trouser pocket and unlocking the very last door. He peeked inside briefly before ushering us in, shutting and locking the door behind himself.

"He's not back yet," he said simply, "Gives us time then." _Back from where?_ It didn't matter.

"Where is she?" Tintin whispered, and Eddy pointed towards the bedroom.

"In there." The bedroom floor was dirty: bits of sailor rope and shredded cloth were lying in a pile on the floor. Eddy plucked a key from atop a single, sheetless mattress sitting on the floor and unlocked a closet door in the very back of the room. He pulled the door open, revealing a bound, blindfolded and gagged Alice. There was a bruise forming on her cheek, and her eyes were full of fear as Eddy removed the blindfold. Tintin lurched forward and picked her up, squeezing her with his good arm. I embraced them, reaching to remove the cloth from Alice's mouth. Tintin then passed her to me and I enveloped her in my arms before kneeling down beside her to unbind her hands and feet.

"I'm sorry, Miss Nollie," she whispered, head bowed so that her blonde hair fell into her face, "I shouldn't have gone with those boys—"

Tintin knelt beside me and smiled at Alice. "You needn't be sorry, Alice, dear," he murmured, running his fingers across the bruise on her cheek.

"I'm not going to let anyone hurt you," I murmured, and she fell into my arms, wrapping her little arms around my back.

The front door of the flat creaked—Paul was back. Tintin cursed under his breath and pushed Eddy, Alice and I into the closet and shut it. The door slammed shut, and within an instant two pairs of footsteps entered the bedroom.

" _You_!" Paul Ashworth shouted. I could see out through a tiny gap between the doorframe and the door, and I watched Paul come into my line of sight. He was staring at the far right corner of the room, where Tintin stood. Alice gasped, and I pressed my hand to her mouth to silence her, still watching Paul intently. _The second he got too close to Tintin_ … I was plotting my first move when Paul spoke again, tone taunting. "Well? Where's your girlfriend?"

"She's my fiancée," Tintin snapped, moving in front of my gap in the door. _I hate you for ruining my plan,_ _you dumb fiancé._

"Is she not here, then?" _No sir. Not me. I'm not here._

"Why are you after Alice, Paul?" Tintin stepped away from the door and towards Paul. I watched him get closer, closer, closer to Paul so that their faces were just inches apart, my stomach churning.

"Oh, I'm not after Alice. I'm after you and your pretty little snoop of a fiancée." Something glinted in the light pouring in through the window to the left of the closet, and suddenly there was a knife in the picture, pointed right at Tintin's throat. "My niece just made a good…now, what's it called… _pawn_." Tintin was completely calm, despite having the point of a knife against his throat. Meanwhile, I trying my hardest to keep myself behind the door. The second I opened the door it would all be over—Paul would kill Tintin, then me, then…

"How did you know that we knew?" Tintin's voice was completely calm. I envied him.

"Why else would that world-famous boy reporter and his Sherlock of a girlfriend be at the park that late at night?" Paul took the knife away from Tintin's throat and I watched my fiancé inhale a deep, relieved breath at the fact that he wasn't moments from death. "I know who you are, Tintin. Everyone does. Even Americans know who you are. I'm not so absent-minded that I wouldn't recognize why you and that girl were snooping around the park that late at night. Obviously you were on to something…Me." He tossed the knife and pulled his gun from nowhere, putting it point blank against Tintin's chest. "I think the best kill of my career will be you. I can see the headline now: 'TINTIN, BOY REPORTER DEAD AT NINETEEN.' Ah, and you know the best part? You will not have written it."

I lost it.

I flung the door open and lunged at Paul—who, right as I threw the door open, punched Tintin out of the way. Paul beamed at me as I approached. "Ah, Miss Nollie! I knew you wouldn't be far. You two just don't know the term _alone_ , do you?" The barrel of the gun was now point blank against _my_ forehead. "Well, now you will."

Tintin regained his footing right as Paul pulled back the hammer, their was a shout and suddenly I was being propelled backwards—right as the gun was fired. I watched the bullet graze Tintin's head as he fell to the ground, landing hard on his already broken wrist. He quickly scrambled to his feet once more, moving in front of me. He held his wrist against his torso for protection…the bone had probably been fractured again, which meant more time for him to heal.

"I will not let you hurt anyone anymore," Tintin announced, "Not me, not Nollie, not _anyone_."

Then he collapsed.

A dozen police officers rushed into the room at that very moment, pistols in hand—every one of them aimed at Paul. "This is him. This is the serial killer," one of them told his comrades, who then arrested Paul. One of the officers knelt beside Tintin as soon as Paul had been hauled away, inspecting him. I was finally free to move towards my unconscious fiancé—the threat was gone.

"He fractured his wrist last week," I explained to him. "He's my fiancé. He twisted and fractured his wrist last week, a-and he just pushed me out of the way of a point-blank shot to my head and when he landed…he landed on his arm and I think—I think he broke it again." The shock was beginning to take over my mind. I had to get out every bit of information I could before the tears came. "He left Henry and Lilly somewhere a-and he didn't t-tell me where." One teardrop, two. "Please…when he wakes up, ask him where the children a-are." Three, four, five, sob. "P-please let him be okay," I sobbed, and the police officer smiled at me.

"It'll be all right, Miss Roberts," the officer's voice was soothing. I didn't even bother asking how he knew my name. _It wouldn't be all right. Paul Ashworth had just held a gun to my head. How was_ that _all right?_ A moment later Alice was at my side, wrapping her arms around me.

"You don't know where Henry and Lilly are?" I didn't respond, instead I wrapped my hand around Tintin's right hand. It was swollen from the new fracture. I couldn't help but feel like this whole thing was my fault. _If I hadn't let the children in, this wouldn't have happened_. Then there was the matter of his broken wrist. _If I had helped a bit more with unpacking, maybe he wouldn't have broken his wrist. Or maybe we shouldn't have moved at all_ …

 **I imagine Paul looking kinda like Benedict Cumberbatch. Okay so Nollie went into shock because of all the events that had happened. And Tintin passed out because he DID break his arm again, and when you break your arm, you're more than likely to pass out from the pain. Just ask my boyfriend, who shattered his femur when he was eleven. AAAANYWAAY, I hope you liked this chapter! If you did, please review & follow & favorite. And check out Tintin & Nollie's blog! Just google search tintinnollie & it'll be the first link! :D Yay! ~DisneyPrincess55**


	8. Chapter 8

**HI GUYS! Here's chapter eight! I hope you enjoy it. It's a pretty good chapter, in my not-so-humble opinion. ;) Anyway, see you at the bottom! ~DP55**

Eight

Children

Alice and I were sitting alone on the floor of Paul Ashworth's apartment—the remeaning police officers and the boys had left. I was torn on whether to follow Tintin to the hospital or take Alice home… For once in my life, I didn't chose Tintin. When we arrived at home, we were greeted by Isabelle, Henry and Lilly.

" _Iz_?" I went up to her and hugged her, astounded she was there, "What are you doing here?"

"Tintin called me a couple hours ago. Said it was an emergency, that these two needed a sitter for a bit." Isabelle was holding Lilly, who cooed at me. I took the baby from my friend and snuggled her. "So do you mind telling me who they are? When I got here, Tintin wasn't here, and—" She paused, "Wait, where _is_ he?"

"He broke his arm again," I explained, bouncing Lilly. "Anyway, these children came to us a few days ago, asking for help in their parent's murder. We just caught the killer…" I lowered my voice, leaning to whisper in Isabelle's ear, "It was their uncle. He's a serial killer."

Isabelle gasped. "Oh, my God, how horrible." She covered her mouth with her hand and leaned against the wall. "A-are you _sure_ it was him?" I nodded my answer. She shook her head in disbelief. "If Ethan kills…" She cut herself off when she noticed Alice standing a meter away from her, staring at her. I extended my free arm towards Alice, beckoning her closer.

"Alice, this is Isabelle, my friend. She was watching Henry and Lilly while Tintin and I went after you."

"Nice to meet you, Isabelle," Alice whispered.

"Speak up, she can't hear you when you whisper," I murmured, and Isabelle stared at me, surprised.

"Sorry, Miss Isabelle," Alice spoke at a normal tone.

"How about you run along upstairs now?" I ushered her off towards the stairs.

As soon as she was gone, Isabelle eyed me. "Nollie, I never knew you were anything of a mother." I rose an eyebrow at her. "Oh, please. Don't you see yourself? You brought Alice home before going to find Tintin. You put these children before your own _fiancé_. Forgive me if I'm a bit surprised, but—"

"Speaking of Tintin," I interrupted her, glancing towards the door, "I need to go see if he's okay."

She looked disappointed as I handed Lilly to her. "I shouldn't be too long," I promised her, "Perhaps an hour. I just need to make sure he's okay and see if he's awake yet."

It was beginning to snow, not to my surprise. It had been so cold the past few days that snow was inevitable. I walked to the hospital in silence, thinking hard about what Isabelle had said. _Was she trying to tell me that we should adopt the children?_ We couldn't…we were too young, not to mention unmarried. I didn't know how to raise three children—I could barely care for myself, really. I was only eighteen. I couldn't mother three children…They deserved better than me. They deserved a mother who has experience with children and babies and little boys. They deserved a real mother, not just me. And sure I loved them, of course I loved them…But I didn't want to risk their future and their happiness by adopting them just because I loved them. That would be selfish.

The hospital was busy, and a doctor with a nametag reading WEBBER led me to Tintin's room. "He'll be discharged shortly, as he's stable and awake." As soon as he said awake I rushed into his room, smiling when Tintin looked over at me.

"Hi, sweetheart," he was drowsy but awake, and I snuggled up against him on the hospital bed.

"He fractured his lower arm, his ulna, and so now it could be six to eight weeks before he will recover fully from both his wrist and his arm," a nurse explained. "We can discharge him in an hour." She was gone.

The second we were alone, Tintin kissed me softly. "Where are the children?" He murmured between kisses.

"Back home, with Isabelle." He kissed me again, and I smiled. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," he smiled, "Paul is being put on death row."

I pulled away from him and stared at him, shocked he was so pleased with this. "They're going to _kill_ him?"

"Noll, he's a serial killer."

"I'm aware of that, but…I didn't think they would kill him over it."

"They have no choice," Tintin shrugged, leaning back on his pillows.

"What are we to do with the children now? They've nowhere to go…" I intertwined my fingers with his, thinking about what his answer would be.

I knew what he was going to say before he even said it. "I truly think we should adopt them."

"We _can't_ …" He looked at me, concerned.

"Well, why on earth not? They are safe and happy with us, Nollie." He was going to continue, but I interrupted him.

"We're not married," I began, "You need to be married in order to adopt a child. That's the first reason. The second reason is that we're children ourselves. I'm only eighteen…"

"Eighteen is when you are considered an adult."

"I'm only eighteen. Alice is nine years younger than me. _Nine_. I am not old enough to be her mother…"

"Sweetheart…"

"I know. I _know_ you love them. I love them too. I want to adopt them, truly, I do, but I do not think it would be good for them." His eyes reflected the sadness I felt deep inside, knowing that the children wouldn't be ours. My eyes welled with tears. "We can keep them for as long as it takes for someone to adopt them. All three of them… I'm not gonna let them be separated, not after everything that's happened."

He looked at me somberly, watching the tears begin to drip down my face. "Nollie, I…"

I kissed him, interrupting him. "We don't need children, Tintin. Not yet. We need each other. Your fractures need to heal. We need to finish unpacking the house. We need to get married… we don't need children, Tintin." He was silent, eyes clouded with sadness. "And who knows? In time, we may have children of our own." I smiled at him, trying to lighten the mood, but the way he looked at me made me feel like an evil witch.

We went home that evening. Tintin didn't speak to me until after Isabelle had gone home and the children were in bed. I wasn't even sure if I was welcome to sleep in my spot on his bed, with the way he was acting. I felt like the cruelest person alive. I _was_ the cruelest person alive. He was already in bed when I entered, leaning against his pillows, reading something. I changed into my nightgown behind the changing screen and climbed into bed beside him. I peeked over his shoulder, trying to see what he was reading, but he put the papers down on his nightstand before I even got the chance.

"What did that say?" I asked him as he shut out the light. The streetlight seeped through the sheer curtains, silhouetting his face as he leaned back against his pillows again. He didn't look at me—he just looked straight ahead, at the wall on the other side of the room. "Tintin?"

"I am afraid to tell you." His voice was almost a whisper, "For I am afraid of how you will react." Oh, no. My mind played through every possible scenario that could have been written on that paper. _Another adventure? Was he losing his job? Was it the hospital bills, were they too expensive for us to pay? We had just bought a house… What if his job was transferring him to another country? What if it was one of our friends in Egypt, what if something happened to them?_ Rawnie and Amaru had just written us to say they were going to have a baby. _What if something happened during her pregnancy and she lost the baby? What if Amaru left her? They weren't even married…_

"Please just tell me," I whispered, my mind clouded with thoughts.

Of course, the one scenario that was written on that paper was one I hadn't even thought of. "I have filled out a request to adopt the children." _What?_

"I beg your pardon?" He went behind my back, after I'd said that it would not be in our best interest to adopt them…

Even in the low light, I could see him wince. "I know. It was a stupid move, especially after what you said earlier at the hospital. But, Nollie, I can't let them be taken away from us…"

"So you went behind my back? What do you think would happen if the request was accepted? You would've had to have told me that." _And I probably would've died of cardiac arrest, because who goes behind their fiancée's back…after she told you no, to try and adopt three children?_

"I know. I know it was stupid of me, but I just…" I quit listening, instead I burrowed myself down underneath the comforter and squeezed my eyes shut, pretending that he hadn't disobeyed my request and everything was fine. And I believed myself.

Two weeks passed, and I began to accept the fact that the children could be ours. It was a done deal now. We sat them down two days after he sent the request and announced that we had plans to adopt them, and that we would know within a few weeks whether or not they would be ours or not. Terrified as I was, I forced myself to become more of a mother. Alice and I went to the store and picked out nappies and formula for Lilly, clothes for everyone, and new shoes for Alice. Tintin bought Henry a small wooden car and sent out orders for a bed for him and a bassinet for Lilly. I enrolled Alice into a primary school two blocks away, and that was where she was when Tintin came in with the response to our adoption request. I was feeding Alice mashed peas with a tiny spoon when he called me.

"Sweetheart," he said from the doorway into the kitchen. My response was a simple _hmm?_ —I was too busy feeding the baby to actually use words. "Nollie, they replied to our request." I turned, leaving the bowl of peas and the spoon on the counter island, moving towards him. He'd taken the letter out of the envelope and was skimming through it when I got to his side.

MISTER TINTIN and MISS ROBERTS:

 _We have received your request to adopt Alice, Henry and Lillian Ashworth, and have scheduled your court hearing for 3rd of February, 1930, at 09:30 A.M. Please bring the children with you, as well as all documents as requested below._

The end of the letter was a list of documents to bring—my stomach dropped when the first document on the list was a marriage license. The wedding wasn't until May, and we weren't scheduled to receive our marriage license until the day before. "W-we don't…" I began, but Tintin shook his head.

"We do not need it, we will be all right, I promise. _He couldn't know that. He couldn't be so sure. If they requested it, then we most certainly needed it. But that was the one document on the letter that we didn't have. Was that going to ruin our chances?_ My stomach churned. _We had to get the children. We had to._

 **Well, how was it? P.S. The doctor with the nametag WEBBER was after Richard Webber in Grey's Anatomy. I wonder if anyone caught that? ;) Anyway, please review & follow me/this story! I don't post new chapters until I get at least one review, so if you wanna find out what happens at the court hearing, you're gonna want to review! And check out Tintin & Nollie's blog: Google search tintinnollie and it's the first link. Love you guys! ~DisneyPrincess55**


	9. Chapter 9

**Hiya guys! Here's chapter nine! I would've posted it sooner, but I started college this week and I've been super, SUPER busy with that. Anyway, here you go! See you at the bottom :) ~DP55**

Nine

Broken

Eternity seemed to pass before the third. We loaded the children into the car at nine and drove to the courthouse, Alice and Henry singing a children's song about a weasel on crack…or a man with corn… I wasn't sure. I held Lilly in my arms. She was nearing seven months now, and, as I'd read in a baby book from the library, she's at the age when she begins to acquire her own personality. All I could ever see her as was sweet: giggling and cooing. She never cried, ever, even when she was tired, even when she was hungry. She was the perfect baby. I wanted her to be my baby so badly, I ached to read her books, to throw a big party for her first birthday that July. I ached to raise her as my own daughter, teach her the ways of the world, love her. I ached to love the little baby I held in my arms. I'd only known her for three weeks, and yet I felt as though I'd known her forever. And Alice…I wanted nothing more than to help her with her schoolwork every evening as I made dinner, to teach her about boys, to give her my favorite books for her to read. I wanted to walk her to school in the morning. Then there was Henry. I'd always wanted a son, now I was going to have one. I listened as he and Alice sang a new song, 'Ring-Around-The-Rosie.' He was bouncing his arms, that wooden car Tintin had bought him tightly clutched in his little fist. He was such a loving, happy boy. There wasn't a bone of mischief about him—at least, not yet. He grinned when Alice began a new song, one I didn't recognize. His deep blue eyes were smiling, too. He was always smiling.

We reached the courthouse and unloaded the children. I carried Lilly, Henry's hand in my free one, Tintin's good hand wrapped around Alice's. We were ushered into our hearing immediately. Tintin and I were led to a podium towards the middle of the room, and a stout woman in a twill uniform took the children to a bench a few rows behind us. I turned to them as soon as they were seated, waving at them, before turning forward again and intertwining my fingers with Tintin's, exhaling deeply.

The hearing began well, I explained to the judge how long we'd been caring for the Ashworth children and how we'd found their parent's murderer, per their request. I told him about how much we adored them and how we'd cared for them in the past few weeks: Alice's school, the bed and bassinet we'd ordered just for Henry and Lilly. We were an hour into the hearing when things took a turn. "Mister Tintin, explain to us what you do in your profession." Tintin stiffened.

"I am not clear on why that matters, everyone's read about me," he said softly, so that only I could hear him. He cleared his throat at this, sat up straighter, and began to explain to the judge what he did in his job. "Currently, I'm on medical leave, because of my arm and wrist, but I am a—"

The judge interrupted him. "Tell us, how did you break your arm and wrist?"

"I was telling you about my profession. As I was _saying_ , I am a journalist. Often times, for my stories, I go on adventures, and sometimes I get injured on these adventures…" The color on the judge's face drained, his jaw set. _Oh my God, no_. Tintin realized what he'd said and quickly changed his phrasing. "However, I fractured my wrist and arm while moving furniture into our new house. Careless mistake, I was tired, and…" The judge's eyebrows rose. "It had been a long day at work, and…"

"Are you saying you get _careless_ after a long day of work?"

Every muscle in Tintin's body tensed. "No," he began, "Listen, when you work all day and then come home to carry six brand-new dining chairs into your new house, you tell me you don't get tired—" I stared at Tintin, eyes wide, in complete disbelief that he would _snap_ at the judge, the very man that was about to decide whether or not we could be parents to the three children we loved. The judge's gaze reflected mine—except he looked angry.

"You two worry me," he began, and my blood ran cold. Tintin's hand tangled in mine and he squeezed. "You run off on dangerous adventures, you're young, not even married yet, and currently Mister Tintin isn't even working. I understand why you are trying to adopt these children, but I do not think that you two are the best option to be the Ashworth children's parents… Forgive me. You are not ready to raise three children."

I couldn't breathe. My eyes stung with tears, my throat burned. The next thing I knew I was waking up on one of the courtroom benches, Tintin knelt beside me. He exhaled when I opened my eyes, forced me back down when I tried to sit up. "You need to lie still for a moment, sweetheart," he murmured. There was a twinge of sadness in his voice, something I hadn't heard in a long time.

"Where are the children?" I sat up, despite his orders, swung my legs around the side of the bench he was on. He didn't answer me. "Where are the children?"

"They took them."

"What? _Who_?"

"The lady that had them during the hearing. She took them after you fainted. I don't know where she took them." The tears that had stung my eyes before now rolled down my cheeks, sobs erupting from my throat. Tintin's face broke and he embraced me.

"W-we _lost_ them," I sobbed, "We lost the perfect children." He didn't say anything, he just held me. He held me as I curled into his chest, leaving tearstains on his coat where my eyes were.

" _Shh_ ," he whispered, running his fingers through my hair, "Remember what you said in the hospital? We d-don't need them. We need each other." His voice cracked, and I looked up to see tears dripping down his cheeks. "We should go home," he concluded minutes later.

I cried silently the whole ride home, remembering the children singing in the backseat, thinking about Henry's freckles, Alice's bright blue eyes, Lilly's giggles. When we got home, we curled together on Tintin's bed and cried. "I s-should cancel the order for the bassinet and bed for Henry," he sighed after his bout of tears had subsided, "And return this." He shifted, rolled onto his side, reached into the drawer on his nightstand, retrieved a wooden toy train. He sat up, crossed his legs, began to snivel. "I was going to give it to Henry after the hearing," he sniffed, looking at me, eyes bleary with tears. "I wanted my son to have something to commemorate this day." He said _my son_ as though he truly felt that was who Henry was now. "And I, I knew that Lilly wouldn't remember, so I—" He began to sob again, shoulders shaking. I crawled to his side, holding him. "I wanted those children, Nollie."

"I know."

"I just d-don't understand…" He leaned his head against my shoulder. "We were perfect for them." I ran my fingers through his red hair.

"We weren't," I whispered. He looked up at me, bewildered. "We weren't perfect for them, Tintin. The judge was right. We aren't prepared for three children."

There was a rapping at the door, and Snowy barked from downstairs. "Who could that be?" Tintin muttered, wiping his eyes with a handkerchief, sliding off the bed and making for the door. I followed, slowly, and watched from the stairs as he opened the door. I watched as he stepped backwards, eyes wide, completely mystified. "Noll…" He whispered, "They're back."

" _What_?" I _flew_ down the stairs. Peter Pan would've been proud of me. I threw the door open wider and sure enough, there stood the Ashworth children, shadowed by the stout woman who'd taken them. Tears began to roll down my cheeks—happy tears this time.

"Miss Nollie!" Alice hugged me and I picked her up and spun her, never wanting to let go. Tintin took Lilly from the stout woman and pulled Henry inside.

"But I don't understand," he stared at the woman, "The judge said…"

"They put up such a fight when we took them from you…we figured they could stay with you until they get adopted."

"Oh, my gosh," I wiped the tears from my eyes. "They'll be adopted together, correct?"

"Yes, Miss Roberts, that's the plan."

"Thank you so much," I hugged the woman, who seemed shocked that I was touching her. She tensed when I hugged her and relaxed when I let go—but I didn't care. The children were back, even if only for a short while.

We had the children until mid-March, two months before our wedding now, and we couldn't get enough of them. For a month and a half, we were able to call ourselves their parents. Tintin was able to give Henry his wooden train to go with his wooden car, and I bought the girls each dolls—Alice's made of china and Lilly's made of cloth, of course. They were the most well-behaved children I'd ever met: they never fought with each other. Because of this, it didn't take them very long to be adopted—all together, as promised—much to Tintin and my dismay.

We'd prepared ourselves for this, so it wasn't as hard as the first time they were taken from us. When we received notice that there was a family interested in them, we let Isabelle and Audrey take them to the park for the afternoon so we could have time alone. The crying didn't last as long as before; the tears were replaced with feelings of peace as we realized that this was the future they were destined to have.

"This family will give them more than we can ever imagine giving them," Tintin told me, his arms wrapped around me. My ear was against his chest and I could hear his heart beating in his chest. The sound soothed me.

The family lived in London, which meant the children would need to ride a train to get to their new family. Their new family, the Harrisons, already had two boys, seven and eight, Benjamin and Louis. The father's name was Noah, the mother Grace. That was all we knew about them. The orphanage wasn't allowed to give out their address or anything else, because as soon as they were adopted, we wouldn't be allowed to see them ever again, Noah Harrison's orders.

The night before we took them to the train station, Tintin and I helped them pack their suitcases full of their belongings they'd acquired during their time with us—Alice's doll, Henry's toy train and car, their new clothes and shoes. My heart ached as I folded Lilly's clothes and packed them away. Soon it would be like they never existed in our lives. Maybe that was a good thing. It would help us to move on. Tintin and I would have our own children someday soon, and we could get a fresh start on the whole parenting thing. I scribbled Tintin's phone number down on a slip of paper and hid it inside Alice's roll of socks, telling her that it was in case of emergency, or if she just missed us.

The ride to the train station was the longest car ride I'd ever been on. Nobody said a word, the children didn't even sing. Henry was clutching his wooden car, Alice cradling her doll in her arms. They were dressed to travel: Henry was in a light blue sweater and rust-colored trousers, Alice in a light blue sweater and black skirt, a matching black hat sitting atop her wavy, dusty blonde hair. Lilly was in a light pink silk dress, bonnet covering her brown hair that was beginning to curl at the ends. Tintin parked the car at the train station and we unloaded the children and their suitcases. We walked into the station, gave Alice their tickets and began to say our goodbyes. Henry was first for me, and I knelt in front of him, staring into his big, beautiful blue eyes one final time. "You be good, okay?" I rubbed his shoulders. His eyes began to well with tears and he fell into my arms.

"I _luv_ you, Miss Nollie," he hiccuped, "thank y-you."

"Oh, sweet boy," I whispered, "You have nothing to thank me for. Thank you for being my little boy for a few months." He grabbed fistfuls of my sweater and clung onto me, not wanting to let go. I didn't want him to. "Don't forget me, okay? Because I won't forget you, Henry Ashworth. You be good to your sisters, and tell Lilly about us, and your parents. Tell Lilly about your parents. She won't remember them when she gets to be your age…so you tell her about us and your parents." He nodded, kissed my cheek, and let go. Tintin and I switched children, and as I was thinking of the words to say to Alice, I saw Tintin pick Henry up and hug him tightly. "Alice…" I didn't have to crouch to reach her—she'd grown an inch and a half in the three months that I'd known her. "My job, for three months, was to protect you. To keep you safe. Only once did I fail," I paused, thinking. "I will not be able to protect you anymore, Alice. So now your duty is to protect your brother and sister. And if you ever need anything…"

"I can just call you," she smiled. "Thank you, Miss Nollie. For everything." She hugged me.

"I love you," I murmured into her hair.

"I love you, too," she grinned. "I'm gonna keep my dolly forever. Her name is Nollie, after you." My eyes stung with tears when she said this, and I blinked.

"You be good, okay?" She nodded, hugging me again. The train chugged into the station at that, and I tightened my grip on her. Tintin and I kissed Lilly before handing her to Alice, who waved goodbye to us as she got aboard the train. Henry was following his sister when he dropped his suitcase, turned, and ran back into Tintin's arms. I will never forget the pained look on Tintin's face as Henry ran into his legs—his eyes flickered sadness as he lifted the boy, kissed his cheek, and then carried him and his bag onto the train. The children had found a seat with a window overlooking the station, and we waved goodbye to them as the train chugged away.

When they were gone, Tintin turned to me, wrapped his arm around my waist, pulled me close. "Looks like it's just us again," he smiled, and I kissed him.

 **Well that's the end! I hope I didn't crush your guy's hearts too much. Anyway, I'm planning another story... I hope I'll actually be able to work on it...with all my homework, it's hard to plan on committing to something like a story. So anyway, remember to review & follow me so you'll be notified when I update/post stories! And check out Tintin & Nollie's blog... google tintinnollie & it's the first link! yay :) ~DisneyPrincess55**


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